


Sailing Days

by Xparrot



Category: One Piece
Genre: Community: onepieceyaoi100, Ficlet Collection, Gen, Nakama, Other
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2004-05-11
Updated: 2005-06-02
Packaged: 2017-10-19 14:43:56
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 12
Words: 2,672
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/201985
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Xparrot/pseuds/Xparrot
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A collection of Strawhat pirates-centric drabbles and ficlets.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Warai

**Author's Note:**

> Most of these were written for various challenges on [onepieceyaoi100](http://onepieceyaoi100.livejournal.com/) community - ironically enough, since few are actually 100 words (the wordcount limit on the comm is 300) and these aren't really yaoi, though a few get suggestive.

As a child, Zoro saw little point to laughter. Nothing funny about swords, and that was all that mattered. As he got older he found reasons. A pirate's empty threats, meaningless to him. 'I'll kill you.' The best joke. He enjoyed how their faces changed at his sharp chuckle as he pulled his swords, when they realized that however many of them there were, he wasn't afraid. He always cut it short before the blood fell.

He's never laughed without meaning it. But it's only since he met this pirate king that when he starts, he isn't able to stop.  



	2. Duty

There's an old adage--or is it a warning?--save a man's life, and you become his protector; ever afterwards his life is your responsibility.

Apparently one corollary to this is: fish a man out of the ocean, and ever afterwards it's your obligation to save him from drowning.

Simply logic, really; he is the best swimmer of all of them, can dive the deepest and fastest. That's not pride or talent, just the natural legacy of growing up on ships, and all those years that he pushed himself, made sure no one would ever have to save _him_ from the deadly waves again. And his legs are damn strong.

It isn't all the time. If Luffy just happens to fall off the ship--as he does, often enough--then it's whoever's closer, or whoever draws the short straw, depending on the direness of the situation.

But when they've all gone overboard, when it's an escape or an attack or a storm, when there's no time to debate or decide, it's his job, and they all know it, don't question it, take care of themselves and other concerns and trust him to get Luffy out.

He thinks sometimes that maybe he should mind it, but he doesn't. It's just one of the duties of a cook. At least on this pirate ship.


	3. Patience

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Topic: Pain
> 
>  **Warning** for non-con references. Not actually how I see Sanji, but it would make sense...

He doesn't want sex; he wants to make love.

Thirteen is old enough that every detail should have been burned into his memory, but all he remembers clearly is the pain. They had been well-behaved, for pirates, hadn't even made faces at the waiters, and when the first mate's hand brushed his hair as he poured their wine, he had thought it was just an accident. Until he'd gone into the bathroom and the man had shoved him against the cold mirror, thick hand wrapped over his mouth so he couldn't breathe, and then all he recalls is how it had hurt, like nothing he'd felt before, not the slow ache of starvation but almost as bad.

The next thing he knew was Zeff's voice, and the realization that he'd never truly seen Zeff angry before, and the splash as Patty threw the man off the Baratie. The pirate's crew dragged him out before the sharks came to the blood in the water; the ship never came back, so he never found out if the man ever...walked...again.

That's all he remembers, but it's enough, that when he looks into a woman's eyes he can see the hurt there, and then it's just a matter of finding what it takes to make it go away. One day, he knows, he'll look and see more than the absence of pain, see what's in his own heart returned. Until he does, he'll wait.


	4. 100% Cotton

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Topic: Laundry
> 
> For no particular reason I've been in a good mood today. Which, given my perverse mental workings, usually would mean I'd write [soul-rending angst](http://archiveofourown.org/works/133551)...but, _laundry_?

"Oi, Usopp, you done with my shirt yet?"

"Yeah, here, Zoro."

They all have their chores, and Usopp's chemistry knowledge comes in handy for more than making shooting stars. He figured out how to get tabasco stains out of his overalls long ago, but that's nothing compared to the challenges the crew presents.

"Hey, Usopp, thanks!"

Not only do most of Nami's clothes require special treatment, but there's ink spots to deal with. Or grease stains on Sanji's suits--what kind of idiot cooks in silk? And no one could possibly imagine _what_ Luffy manages to get on his clothes. Much less _how_.

"By the way, Long-nose, good job with the laundry."

Zoro's shirts, however, take extra particular care, beyond the vinegar and ammonia concoction he's developed to get blood out. But he's got it down by now. Boiling water, then use the pedal-operated tumbler to whip it dry, though he has to be careful not to overdo it; Nami charges for mending tears.

"Thank you for doing the laundry, Usopp. It came out great."

As an artist, he understands the importance of aesthetics in maintaining good spirits. And as resident storyteller, he considers it his responsibility to keep up the ship's morale.

So if Zoro's going to cover himself with a shirt, the _least_ Usopp can do is make sure it's a size too small. Or two or three.

Now if only he could figure out what to do about the pants...


	5. Wake-up Call

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> For [onepieceyaoi100](http://onepieceyaoi100.livejournal.com/), topic "exhaustion".

He couldn't move, which wasn't something he ever enjoyed; not in action, he wasn't _him_. But everything was so heavy, heavier than being under a mountain, and he didn't know how to fight that weight, couldn't even open his eyes under it, couldn't even breathe.

Like sleep but deeper, and he knew this feeling, this tiredness, he'd felt it before, but he was too exhausted to remember. He didn't care anyway. When you're tired, you rest, and things would be better when you woke up; they always were. Nothing else really mattered, as long as he could sleep.

Except he couldn't. It wasn't the noise; even right in his ear he could ignore that. The shaking didn't matter, nor that pounding on his chest.

But Zoro sounded scared, and nothing scares Zoro. There was a rasp to his shout, where usually there's anger, but this time his voice was hoarse, stretched so thin it sounded like it might snap, like one of Usopp's rubber bands.

And he needed to know what enemy there possibly could be, who could scare Zoro. To see that marvel, as tired as he was, he forced his eyes open. Then he was coughing, was roughly yanked up and whacked on the back until he had choked up all the salt water filling his lungs, and Zoro--not scared at all--was grumbling, how could you just fall off like that, and look at this damn island, and the ship's not in sight, and what the hell do we do now--

It didn't seem like a bad island, really, there were palm trees, with coconuts. Though he had looked forward to beating up the monster that had scared Zoro so badly, and was disappointed, when he looked around, to see no sign of it.


	6. Cataloging

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Topic: "outside, looking in"

"Zoro's got that look."

"Mm. Number 56."

"'My captain is the dumbest captain on the whole Grand Line.'"

"Not to be mistaken with Number 57, 'My captain is the dumbest captain on the entire planet.'"

"Yes, the eyebrow is a little high for Number 57. Though with the quirking lip, he's dangerously close to Variation C of Number 56."

"'My captain is the dumbest captain on the whole Grand Line, but I'll still follow him to the ends of the earth'?"

"Exactly."

"Has to be his silliest look."

"Absolutely."

"Cracks me up every time."

"I should take a picture, I'd have blackmail material for the rest of his life."

"Not that we'd ever look that dumb."

"Nope."

"And even if we _did_ , it wouldn't be that..."

"Hopeless. Of course not."

"Never."

"...It's always been one of my favorites."

"You know what? Mine, too."


	7. Umai

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Topic: Jealousy

Can a father envy his child, or an artist his own painting?

But it's not only the way Luffy takes it into his mouth, almost its entirety at once. Nor how his lips close around it, just so tight, and his throat works, the juices winding a shining trail over the curve of his chin, down his neck. It's the pleasure in his half-closed eyes, that moment he's motionless, transfixed, entirely given to it. Then he swallows, every bit, that agile tongue sweeping up those last drops.

And Sanji decides that he's never making chocolate-covered bananas for dessert ever again.


	8. Mature

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> No pairings, oops. And not really on topic, unless coffee counts as food. Oops again.  
> This isn't quite the drabble I started to write, but this is how it came out in the end. So be it.

She is elegance itself, one of the most beautiful women he's ever seen, and he's seen many. Through the tumult of their winter camp around her, she sits reading quietly by the fire, eye of their storm, unfazed by the cold, or the snowballs and shrieks Luffy and Usopp are throwing. They're such kids; she's years beyond such idiocy.

Sanji adds the final touch, chocolate shavings sprinkled over the cream, gives himself a final lookover before picking up the tray. Suit pressed, tie tied, cufflinks in place. He may be young, too, but not by much. Maturity is in the details, the effort to make every element perfect.

"Robin-chan," he calls, and she looks up from her book, even that simple motion graceful. Gratitude in her small smile--such a refined and adult smile, he almost fancies it's to a peer. He wishes he better understood how to please those mysterious, complex tastes. " _Pour vous_ \--"

At which point a snowball hurtles into him, and all that saves the tray is a quick pair of arms reaching from the snow. Robin takes the cup, appreciatively inhales the coffee's rich steam. "Why, thank you."

But the cook doesn't hear, being too busy hollering, "You idiots!" as he plunges after Usopp and Luffy, who bolt, crying over their shoulders, "But we didn't--!" Their protests are futile, however, and soon the snowballs are flying thicker than ever, propelled by wild kicks.

Robin puts down her book. Snatching a stray missile out of the air, she tosses it back into the fray, and winks when Usopp catches it. Usopp, who saw whose hand threw that other snowball, grins back.

And if Sanji's suit is soaked and his tie undone and his cufflinks lost under the snow, he's laughing too hard to care.


	9. One more star in the sky; one more wave on the sea.

_"I'm doing this for my own dream. For All Blue."_ He can't help but remember, when he said he would come and join this crazy ship, how Luffy had danced, that wild grin wider than almost he ever saw it before or since. He can't help but recall that joy, when he was new and exciting and _wanted_ \- and such a preciously strange thing, that nothing was wanted of him but what he was already, that he could make someone so happy just by being.

You'd think he would miss it, that uniqueness, that importance, when every kick he threw was unpredicted and every dish he served was a surprise and his cigarettes hadn't yet darkened the kitchen curtains and his shoes hadn't yet scuffed the floor. There are newer crewmates now, and he's just one of the crew; the cook, as all ships have a cook, an ordinary, expected fixture.

You'd think he would miss it, but then Luffy leans back from the table, empty bowls piled high around him, throws up his fists and shouts to the twilight sky, "I've got the best cook in the world!" And it doesn't matter if it's true; doesn't matter if the stars are listening, or the waves, when it's loud enough for them to hear it all the same.


	10. Between Moments

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Topic: Time
> 
> Pairing: I. Er. Seem to keep forgetting this is a _yaoi_ drabble group. I throw myself upon the unstrained mercy of the court and plead for leniency on account of (attempted) Luffy-nakamashipping.
> 
> I'll have to try this again; couldn't force it to work this time. Le sigh.

Two hours past midnight, two hours before dawn, nothing happens; everything is so still time might be stopped. The Going Merry is anchored, sails furled, and her captain keeping watch in the crow's nest. Though they haven't spotted any ships for days, one might appear. Maybe Marines, a fun battle. He'd have to wake Zoro, so he wouldn't miss the sword practice. And Chopper afterwards, if they got cut.

But there's no sails, no cannon thunder, just deliberately audible footsteps on the deck below. Luffy rockets down to grin at Robin. "You're early."

Robin nods. "If you'd like I can take over now."

"You like having watch."

"I enjoy the peace, for reading." There's a book tucked under her arm, like always. "But you, Captain, does it bore you, not having enough crew to man the ship through the night?"

Unlike the others' insults, he never quite can tell when Robin's teasing him. He shrugs. "Nami's asleep anyway." It's true he has more crew to find, but the Grand Line can't be traversed without a navigator's genius.

For a silent moment they watch the sea together. Beside the ship floats a raft of sleeping albatrosses, heads tucked under wings, gray bobbing specks in the moonlight. If they're around tomorrow Usopp could shoot a couple down; Sanji's been worrying about their dwindling supplies.

"You don't find it lonely, at night?" Robin asks, quiet as the lapping waves.

He'd be certain she is teasing, but when he touches her shoulder it's stiff like wood. "A while ago, when I first set out. Never now. How can you be lonely, when you're not alone?"

One Piece is out there to find, and those crewmates he has still to meet, and he can't wait. But now it's enough, to see his newest nakama's smile.


	11. His Very Best

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Topic: Seme Sanji
> 
> I had to. Honestly, I love this pairing so _so_ much.

Like his cooking, it's a matter of pride, his skill at seduction, and even if it's not the first time, he still takes it seriously. His technique must be perfect, by the demands of his ego; even if a slip might be forgiven by his partner, it would still be as embarrassing as mistaking a tablespoon of sugar for one of salt.

But it's an art he's mastering, with practice. His captain's body shudders under the sure play of his fingers over that supple flesh. Eyes closed and head thrown back, abandoned to his touch, even the straw hat fallen from the tangled black locks, forgotten. He slips open the red vest's buttons, one by one, bares the temptation of that tautly muscled chest.

Luffy whimpers, shaking syllables on his lips. "Sa--San--that--ahh--no--" Too breathless to even shape his whole name, as he glides his nails over the surprisingly chiseled contours of his abs.

"San--Sanji!" It comes all at once, as a shriek, bursting from Luffy's throat as the blond leans over him. "S-sanji, s-s-top--that--hah--that--hahah--t-t-tickles!"

Sanji grins, clamps his hands over his arms to hold that squirming, giggling rubber body down, and applies his very best raspberry to his captain's belly.


	12. Beginner Lesson

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Topic: Dancing
> 
> Inspiring topic indeed, an idea jumped me about ten minutes after hearing it! And then promptly morphed into this, but the original idea might still happen too, you never know.

Usopp hoped someone found them before Sanji came to the kitchen to make dinner. Hopefully Zoro. Zoro was good at knots, and he wouldn't ask. Or Chopper, Chopper would believe a more reasonable (less embarrassing) explanation than the truth.

Looking back, perhaps it hadn't been the best idea. Luffy had all kinds of unexpected talents, but it was unlikely something as sophisticated as dancing would be one of them, no matter how much he liked music, or his impressive coordination when fighting. But Luffy had been bored enough to ask--to beg, once Usopp had let it slip he knew a couple steps--and it was too good an opportunity to pass up. Imagine the awesome moves a rubber man could pull off!

In hindsight...at least he should have picked another dance. Something simpler for a beginner. Maybe a polka. Or the Mocktown Two-Step. Another opportunity not to be missed, that Luffy didn't mind (or hadn't realized he was) taking the girl's part. But it was difficult to instruct and dance simultaneously.

A shadow fell over them and Usopp looked up to see Sanji flail to catch his cigarette as it dropped from his open mouth. Restoring the cig to its proper place, the cook raised a curly eyebrow. "Do I want to know?"

Should have just gone with the Twist.

"No," Usopp grated. It wasn't that he so greatly minded getting tangled in his captain's limbs, but after half an hour working at Luffy's arms he still hadn't gotten his elbows untied, and he couldn't even reach his legs. Sanji could _help_ , rather than just make snide comments. "You really don't--"

But Luffy already was answering, quite cheerfully, if a bit strangely pitched from the stretching of his neck around Usopp's boot, "Usopp's teaching me the tango!"


End file.
